


Steps

by fragilespark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilespark/pseuds/fragilespark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Bethany dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steps

“You must have seen all kinds of parties-” Bethany gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, “not that I want to remind you of unpleasant things!”

Fenris shook his head. “I’m sure some people there found it pleasant. There were… horrible displays of blood magic, yes, but some people just drank, and gossiped, and danced.”

“Were you expected to learn any? Dancing, I mean.”

“No. But I saw enough to have an idea.” Fenris lifted a shoulder. “It was all very theatrical, not too dissimilar from Orlais, I’m sure - although the styles must be different.” He sipped his wine. “What about Ferelden?”

Bethany smiled. “Well, I can’t speak for Ferelden as a whole, and not the cities, but in the villages we lived in - I remember Lothering most, obviously - it starts off more of a group thing.” She was gesturing with her hands.

“Show me.”

“Oh? Now?” she smiled as Fenris held his hand out, and took it. “What shall we do for music?”

“I leave that to you.”

 

Bethany stood Fenris in the middle of the room and backed a few paces away. She closed her eyes briefly. “Imagine you’re in the Hanged Man, just- bigger. Rowdy conversation, a few drunks, a few card games in the corner. Now imagine a band starts up with a cheerful tune and there’s a rush of dresses as the ladies line up on one side and the gents on the other. They bow and curtesy and most people know which music goes with which steps and we start-” she paced a few steps out, to Fenris, and away again, and then clapped three times.

The sound was like a wake up to the mansion, a reminder that there was something very much alive within it. Fenris followed her movements and tried to employ his imagination further, what if there was a band, what if the room was full of people and not dust and broken armour, what if Bethany was in a dress… Fenris was sure she would be equally as captivating then.

“Come,” he said, “I will show you the Tevinter way.”

She stopped, a little breathless. “Are you sure?”

He held out his hand once more. “The dance itself is not at fault. Although I am sure I will not be repeating this.”

Bethany took his hand and he lifted it to shoulder height. “Wait!”

Fenris was utterly startled, but she only beamed at him.

“You should be doing the same thing. ‘Imagine…’” she made a face, “but not the blood magic thing.”

Her encouragement was charming, despite the subject matter. He tried to filter out the horror and the fear to do what she did and simply describe. He closed his eyes, and promptly crinkled his nose. “Imagine you are wearing a haughty, intimidating dress. It’s not big but it keeps people at a distance, especially the slaves you go past. If you can hit them with the seams or the feathers or the heavy beads on your sleeves, all the better, they will be immediately punished in your honour.”

Fenris realised he was probably crushing Bethany’s hand, but she had not said a word. “Forgive me.” He held it more gently, scolding himself. “I suppose I should show you the dance. I am no good at the rest, it seems.”

“You were only remembering, as I was. I’m sorry those awful memories are so vivid.”

He had no way of returning her compassion other than to perform his task attentively. He drew her to him, fingertips at her waist. “We are close, but not pressed together. Everyone is playing the power game. There is little affection here.” It was at odds with how he wanted Bethany to feel, but he continued. “You are still. Controlled. Whoever leads determines the steps.”

“Where does my hand go?”

“On my shoulder.”

The touch was warm. It was at once too much and of little consequence. Just a hand. Just Bethany.

“I will move towards the staircase. It is like a parade, a walk. And…” his own reluctance was interfering, “we do not even look at each other.”

“Oh… okay.”

Bethany turned her head. She sounded disappointed. Was it disappointment? Or was it Fenris’ own? He snapped his gaze away from her pleasing profile. He was supposed to be leading by example after all. One shallow breath, and he stepped to the side, turning her slightly. A few steps later and he stopped.

It was enough.

They both turned their heads at the same time and their lips met. Bethany’s eyes widened in surprise and Fenris backed away from her, gasping an apology.

She waved her hands out, looking less agitated than Fenris felt, but still flustered. “No, it’s my fault, you told me not to look at you. I’m sorry- not that I’m sorry it _happened_ but that- well, you know…”

Fenris took a few seconds to find a suitable response. The kiss itself had not been offensive? He couldn’t quite process that, but there was one thing he was sure of. “I would rather you dance however you wish and not feel you had done something wrong by doing so.”

“Some rules are useful,” she said, inexplicably returning to Fenris’ side, “they help you not to step on toes. And as you’re barefoot, that’s kind of important.” She held her hand out.

“You wish… to dance again?”

“Imagine it was just the two of us, with nobody watching. How would you want to begin?”

Bethany stood there, among the dust, and Fenris took her hand.


End file.
